Lucy, I believe this has Edgar's approval since he was either lying by my left hip or my feet the whole time I was writing it! LOL Happy Birthday my dear! Cool, cool, cool! :-)
Thanks to MapleLeafCameo for looking over this for me. Also, I don't own them so I can't profit from writing about them.
Sherlock peered down the staircase. It was a lot farther to the landing than he had thought it would be and once they reached that point there were even more stairs to the bottom.
"There must be a way," he whispered, as he paced back and forth on the top step.
Nearby, John tugged on his jumper. "I don't know why you can't accept the fact that we're going to have to help each other? There is no other way."
Sherlock tapped the end of his snout with a paw as he continued to mutter. "There has to be a way that is faster."
John was scratching at an ear when he heard his friend exclaim, "Oh! Of course!"
Sherlock hurried to stand behind the smaller figure. "John, you have to trust me."
Suddenly wary, the shorter of the two braced himself. "Why do I have to trust you?"
"Because I'm going to push you down the stairs," was the explanation he was given.
John quickly shuffled away from the edge and crawled over to the wall. "No! I don't want to get all battered and bruised!"
Sherlock sighed, "You aren't going to get battered and bruised! As full of fluff as we are we won't feel a thing and it isn't as if you have skin to mark! There isn't even anything sharp around so you needn't worry about tears. Honestly, I know your brain is full of stuffing but please try to think."
John refused to move. "If you're so sure it will work then why don't you go first?"
Sherlock paused before running to the edge yelling, "Geronimo!" as he went.
John watched as his friend dropped quickly out of sight. As he scrambled to see, he could hear muffled cries of "Hmph!" Forcing himself to look towards the landing, John caught a view of Sherlock lying on his side, part of his coat folded up over his ear. For a moment all was still.
"Sherlock!" John whispered, loudly. "Sherlock! Are you dead?"
A red paw rose up to push the wool coat back to where it belonged. A snort could be heard as the small figure stood up. "Honestly John, try to be sensible. We aren't alive therefore we cannot be killed. Really, sometimes I wonder about you, I really do."
John gave a sigh of relief. "So you're all right then?"
Sherlock brushed down his coat. "Yes, yes. I am fine, didn't feel a thing. Now throw yourself down here so we can get on with the task at hand!"
John threw caution to the wind and threw himself towards his friend. He made it about halfway before he fell onto a step and tumbled towards the landing. He was amazed to realise he didn't feel any sort of pain. Soon he was bumping into Sherlock and coming to a stop. John felt himself being tugged up and a paw brushing his jumper.
"There, as I said. No injuries to speak of. Care to tackle this next set together?"
Shaking his woolly head to clear it of the cottony feeling that had taken over, John answered, "Yes, I suppose that does make sense."
Wasting no time, Sherlock grabbed the smaller bear's paws and jumped. Before too long they were lying on the floor in an inelegant heap. John couldn't help but feel a little jealous since it seemed the tumble didn't seem to affect Sherlock at all. The detective was already up and making certain dust had not settled on either of them. Satisfied, he proceeded to grab hold of John's jumper and tug them over to the door leading to 221A.
"What's your brilliant idea for getting behind a closed door, genius?" John taunted.
"John, you really need to think once in a while. I can't do it for you all of the time." Sherlock stopped beside the door and placed one paw on top of the other by John's waistline. "Now step up onto my paws and reach up to turn the doorknob. Don't argue like I know you want to, just trust me."
Growling softly, John moved stepped into the paw stirrup. "I don't know why I followed you. I could have easily spent the night on the mantle where it was nice and warm. It isn't as if the cats have done anything to you."
Grunting from the weight of the stouter bear, Sherlock answered, "Ever since Mrs. Hudson got those cats a month ago they have done nothing but cause trouble. They sneak out of their own flat all of the time and make their way up to ours when they don't belong there. That Hector is always claiming our taller caretakers scarf and coat and getting his hairs all over them. And Dinah thinks she's a queen or something. Honestly, how many times does a cat have to eat a rope attached to its toy before they learn? They're just a general nuisance."
John grasped the door knob with both paws and turned. "And what are your plans once we get inside?"
"We make a mess of the flat. The cats will of course get the blame and Mrs. Hudson will get rid of the terrible things."
John paused. "I don't want to make trouble for her. She made us with such loving care; it hardly seems like a fair exchange."
"Believe me John, she will soon be visiting our caretakers and rejoicing in their absence before you know it."
John shrugged his shoulders, "If you say so."
The bear turned the knob and the door opened an inch. He quickly jumped down and moved until he was behind Sherlock.
"What about the cats?" he asked, worriedly.
"They'll have gone to bed with their mistress. Or slave depending on how you look at it. Anyway, they will want to steal what warmth they can from her as she sleeps so they will be behind a closed door, giving us free reign of the kitchen and living room. We make a mess, close the flat door behind us and slowly work our way up the stairs so we can be sitting on the mantle before anyone wakes up in the morning."
Sherlock crept through the open space and grabbed hold of John's jumper to make certain his friend followed him.
Despite the darkness of the rooms, both bears were able to see rather well. John thought the button eyes Mrs. Hudson had chosen was the reason for their abilities. As they made their way through the kitchen, Sherlock climbed onto the nearby chair and hoisted himself up so he could walk on the table. Taking small pieces of paper between his paws, he walked to the edge of the surface and threw them over.
About to hiss out his friend's name, John paused when he felt he was being watched. Turning around he could see two eyes glowing as they came closer. He backed up until he hit a leg of the table.
"Sherlock!" he cried. "It's one of the cats!"
"John!" he heard above him, "Don't move! Their vision is based on movement! Plus you're taller than they are!"
"That was a movie! And they weren't talking about cats either!" Eyes continued to move towards the small bear. "I don't care if I am taller! They have claws!"
Not waiting for an answer, John took off on a run. Unfortunately, his fear caused him to run towards the sink and not the door. Moments later, Sherlock heard his name being cried as John was taken away by Hector. Not wasting any time, the taller bear threw himself off the table and onto the floor, intent on saving his friend.
As he turned in the direction John had been taken in, he noticed Dinah. Only a few inches away, the female cat lazily licked her left paw. Taking a moment to rub her ear with the paw she kept her eyes trained on the bear in front of her.
"I am not for eating, your majesty," Sherlock proclaimed.
Before he could make a dash for it, Dinah sprung in his direction, her claws extended and a mouth full of teeth ready to tear into him.
"No!" Sherlock cried, as he threw himself into a sitting position.
Gasping for breath, the detective ignored the startled noise of his flatmate and glanced around the room. John sat in his chair reading a medical journal, the two bears Mrs. Hudson had made them were still propped on the mantle and he was on the sofa where he had fallen asleep a short time earlier. Sherlock gave of relief as he lay back down and turned onto his side.
Before closing his eyes once more, he muttered, "Mrs. Hudson had better not ever get any cats."
Used to his friend's odd behaviour, John simply shrugged his shoulders as he turned back to his book.